


Differing Expectations

by haku23



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:18:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haku23/pseuds/haku23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is Captain America and all he's ever wanted in life is a wife, two and a half kids, a white picket fence and maybe a dog. Life has a way of surprising people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Differing Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the kink meme for the prompt "Steve is from the 1940s and being gay is not something he's ever thought about before. He also feels like it's wrong (but not in a homophobic kind of way, it's just his traditional old fashioned sensibilities,) but... he can't shake the feelings he has for Tony. 
> 
> I basically want a Steve centric fic where he struggles with his sexuality and coming to terms with the fact he really likes Tony and the hell with it. Also bonus if Tony is really understanding about it, even if all he wants is to jump Cap's bones."

His eyes shouldn't linger on Tony's body. They shouldn't but they do. They shouldn't but they keep tracing the curve of his bicep when he wears one of his beaters in the lab, the line of his back until it leads into his not back whenever he isn't paying attention. Like his default action while not doing something that requires his full attention is shooting covetous glances at Tony's rear like some sort of pervert. Clint's resting face is known for looking terrifying-Steve is too busy looking at Tony to have any sort of expression like that. There's really only one safe place for him and it's in the gym. The one away from Tony.

 

He attacks the punching bag again, hoping that it will clear his thoughts of Tony bending over a table, Tony's voice husky from sleep which his brain and other places seem to love, Tony's hand resting on the small of his back as he steers him away from paparazzi who try too hard to rile him up with stupid questions. It's the little things that drive him crazy, that make him want to give himself over to this...feeling. Not a sickness. The information packet they'd given him had been adamant that it wasn't considered an illness anymore which he's glad for-men writing to a fella back home or a woman writing another, who did it hurt?-but those are other people. Other people are fine but himself? These feelings coming from him? No way.

 

“Have a grudge for this particular bag or did Hulk destroy the gym again?”

 

Great. He keeps his eyes straight in front of him, still hammering away at the bag so that he won't look over and break his promise to himself that he won't look at Tony like that anymore. There's sweat dripping into his eyes-he leaves it there, blinks it away the best he can.

 

“Just wanted to get out,” his voice sounds strange to him, as if his feelings and thoughts are plain in his tone. There are plenty of gay characters and people on the television that don't have the telltale lisp so his tongue shouldn't feel like it's ballooned in size. What if he can tell?

 

“I was going to head out for a burger but I guess you wouldn't be interested in that since you're already on a date with that piece of gym equipment.”

 

There's a tapping as Tony crosses the floor and Steve tries to hide how he tenses when Tony gets closer. He's not even within touching distance however his mind doesn't seem to care about trivial details like that as it not so helpfully provides him with memories of the times Tony _has_ touched him. “Sorry, Tony. I'm a bit busy.”

 

_Eyes on the bag, Rogers._ “I hope you realize that you're subjecting me to an entire two hours of Clint because I told him he's my second string burger buddy. You know how Bruce is about leaving the lab.” 

 

The bag yields under his fist and spits sand onto the floor, into his face. Tony cracks up when he starts wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand but Steve remains steadfast in his mission not to so much as glance at him.

 

“Sorry, I have to go.”

 

“Is that a sorry I have to go change so I can save you from your horrible fate kind of sorry or a sorry I'm going to keep on avoiding you kind of sorry?” there's a hint of something Steve can't identify in his tone however his words speak loud enough-there's no need to go analyzing his tone, too.

“I'm not avoiding you,” the fact that he says it while walking to the other side of the gym for the broom that is propped against the wall probably diminishes what he's trying to get at a bit.

 

Tony follows him, rests his hand on Steve's shoulder which Steve shrugs off after a brief second-a traitorous voice in his head tells him just to let it rest there awhile. “Okay, let's pretend for two seconds that you're not and this is all just one big misunderstanding. I mean, it's not but you know how to pretend. What are you doing that's so important you can't come out for food? Besides ruining punching bags?”

 

“Lay off, Stark.”

 

“Oh, so now I'm Stark. Funny how you say you're not avoiding me, nothing's wrong but now we're on a last name basis again.”

 

“Maybe I'm just not hungry,” he carefully carries the broom over to the mess he's made without meeting Tony's gaze though Tony is actively trying to make him now by walking into his line of sight.

 

“Or maybe you're lying and you're doing that thing that girls do when they're pissed at something but won't tell you what it is.”

 

And there's a moment when he opens his mouth to tell him what's been chipping away at his skull so much now that it's reached his brain and taken up residence there, but the words he wants to say get easily replaced by vitriol. It's not that being a woman would be horrible, he just knows he means 'that' kind of girl. The one that men complain about but aren't man enough to let go because then they would be alone. “Or maybe you're just not as good with women as you think you are if they do that all the time. Why does it have to be something you did? Why is everything all about you?”

 

“You know what? I'm done here. Once that time of the month is over let me know,” Tony stalks to the door-Steve's eyes flick between the floor and Tony, quickly so he can act like it's just a glance, like he's not watching him like _that._ Then, “suit up, Barton, you're off the bench.”

 

~~**~~

 

“Can we not do that thing where you tell me I was wrong because I wasn't wrong,” Tony holds up a hand to stop Pepper from coming any closer into his nest of wires. He can still feel her disapproval though-it's the Pepper Aura of Disapproval and it usually only comes around when he's done something really stupid. Like apparently wanting to spend time with Steve.

 

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe you're coming on a bit too strong?”

 

He doesn't stop soldering before he speaks, “uh...he's the one staring at my dick and ass every time he talks to me, remember? For once, I'm not the most perverted person in a relationship.”

 

She lets out a sharp sounding sigh, “he's from the 40's, Tony.”

 

“So? Everyone has a gay phase, not seeing your point.”

 

“Everyone does not have a gay phase-”

 

“Natalie.”

 

“That,” there's a rustle of clothes as she crosses her arms over her chest, “was not a gay phase.”

 

“You made out with her. That's a gay phase, Pep. Everyone has one.”

 

“I don't think they had those in the 40's,” she's probably right. But...

 

“He was in the military. Testosterone flowing...no girls around...gay phase,” finally he sets his work aside to get to his feet. He stretches his arms over his head until his back cracks loudly-there has to be some way he can cure himself of being in his mid forties-and pulls his goggles up onto his hair.

 

“Tony the military is nothing like Saving Ryan's Privates.”

 

He furrows his brow at the lack of smoothie on his desk after he'd been so careful to leave it somewhere Dummy couldn't easily grab it, “it should be.”

 

“Just slow it down, he's probably never thought of being with a man before,” Pepper is holding a blender cup with something mouldy in it which explains the smoothie situation. She gives him a 'really?' stare when he holds his hand out for it. It's probably not fatal and he's hungry.

 

“I asked him out for burgers again. Didn't realize that was a crime.”

 

He and Steve had been pretty regularly going out places together, maybe not the swankiest of joints but he'd never been bored when they were together. Steve had liked the art museum and could've been mistaken for a fan at a Bieber concert when he'd caught a rogue baseball when they'd gone to see a game. Not to mention he'd been staring pretty openly at Tony's junk more than once since they'd started their platonic friend dates. Not so platonic. Whatever. They hadn't yet called them date dates.

 

“And...?”

 

“And nothing.”

 

“Do you mean nothing like 'I kissed him' nothing or nothing as in 'nothing', nothing?”

 

Damn her. “I may have suggested last time...”

 

“You stuck your tongue down his throat.”

 

“Not down his throat. It was in the vicinity of his mouth and he liked it.” Steve had pulled him closer, pressed against him like if he didn't Tony would disappear in a cloud of smoke and now today? Yesterday? Three days ago? He'd acted like Tony had personally grabbed his puppy and kicked it off a bridge while he watched.

 

She rolls her eyes, “did you even _ask_?”

 

“Why does everyone always assume I just do things without asking to people? I didn't need to ask because he closed his eyes-really long eyelashes for a guy by the way-and puckered up.”

 

“Think about it while you're in Tokyo.”

 

“I'm not going to Tokyo.”

 

~~**~~

 

Tony is supposed to be in Japan for a conference which leaves Steve with an entire two weeks to not think about Tony. Except that Pepper has just ushered him out the door and Steve can't lift the frown off of his face. Clint comes in the way Tony had just left, takes one look at Steve's face then puts his hands up in surrender as he edges past him like he'll get a pounding if he presents himself as anything other than a peaceful interloper. Scowl still fixed on his face Steve goes to his room and pulls on a pair or sweats, a t-shirt before jogging out the front door. He's in the neighbourhood he'd grown up in when he stops despite not consciously choosing any destination. It's not that the tower isn't home, it's grown to be despite his earlier efforts to live in the past, it's just less home than here. Here is teeming with memories-good and bad-some of the physical places are gone now yet he returns to the place they used to be on occasion. His childhood home still stands but he doesn't swing by to check it out. Once had been enough.

 

His apartment has nothing in the way of food but there's a small grocery store just down the street that he raids for some. It's the only place in Brooklyn that doesn't try to give him his purchases for free which makes it a favourite. There's only so many ways a guy can say 'no thank you I'll pay' once the owner has insisted five times that there's no charge for Captain America. There isn't much to do but listen to the radio but there's a baseball game on so it's not so bad. After only a couple innings though he gets to his feet and turns the dial to something with less current memories attached to it. Tony had taken him to a game just a couple of weeks ago-the ball he'd caught had been placed in his room in the tower which is probably for the best anyway. All he needs is to remember how he'd wanted to place his hand over Tony's on the armrest, feel his work hardened fingers and palm under his fingertips when he's trying so hard to forget those kinds of things. Sometimes when he's alone in the dark he wonders how it would feel to have those hands touching him somewhere less innocent than his hand. How it would feel to have Tony with him in bed. And when that happens he shuts his eyes and wills those thoughts away-they still come back though. They always come back.

 

When the sun is breaking over the horizon and light is seeping into his bedroom he jogs to the cemetery. Visits his mother where the flowers he'd left last time are shrivelled and dead. Tells her things that don't see the outside of his brain anywhere else. Tells her about Tony, about how he's not sure about who he is anymore. Asks her if she's disappointed even though he knows she would say no. He's grown now of course so he wouldn't ask for a hug but she would've given him one anyhow, would've told him that there wasn't any other way he could be but how he was. His fingertips brush across the now rough top of the stone where he'd used to help pull himself up before the serum as he stands. One last adjustment of the flowers marks the end of his visit-he goes to Bucky's next, across town. No flowers for him because he had always said he didn't like that gooey crap, just talk.

 

It doesn't feel like Bucky is here sometimes. His mother he knows hears him because she's his mother and maybe it's foolish but he thinks she's watching over him-death wouldn't prevent her from being a mother. But Bucky...Bucky is different. Bucky's is silent, a real grave site. The words on the stone are still easily legible in spite of the years heaped on top of it like rubble. He tells Bucky different things. Talks about Clint and Natasha and Bruce, how they've become his family like the Commandos. He misses them too but they don't have grave sites. Not here. Dirt wouldn't have been able to hold them anyway, they'd have clawed their way back up like those monsters in the films the others had shown him, they'd have taken life back and kept on living until they were dust. It's okay, though, because he still remembers them. He can't get drunk of course but he finds a bar easily enough and drinks to them.

 

“Rough day, pal?” the bartender asks as he passes him another bottle.

 

“Something like that.”

 

“Something bad happen?”

 

“No?” he looks up from the bar with its various engravings and the bulky man in front of him is wiping down glasses wearing a very ratty rag.

 

“Then it ain't so bad of a day, is it?”

 

“Yeah, I guess you're right.”

 

He is right, things could be a lot worse than this. Loki could be attacking or someone even more powerful, Steve could be doing more to help and instead he's sitting in a bar not getting drunk and worrying over something that doesn't matter anymore. They won't throw him in jail for having feelings, they won't think he's sick and as long as he didn't act on them it didn't have to be an issue. Tony liked spending time with him sure, but they're friends. Steve could handle that, couldn't he? Keeping his thoughts and eyes to himself wouldn't be impossible-no one had to know that he even had any kind of feelings other than platonic ones for Tony. It would be okay.

 

~~**~~

 

“How did you _lose_ Captain America?” Tony paces back and forth, coffee in one hand and gesturing wildly with the other, “he's practically the definition of routine. Where the hell did he even _go_ that we don't know about? Seriously, think about it.”

 

“You need to think about taking it down a notch,” Clint is shoving food into his face as he talks which is a habit that Tony has nothing to say about because he and talking with his mouth full aren't exactly strangers, “freakin' out. He's probably rescuing orphans or volunteering at a soup kitchen.”

 

“It's not Saturday or Wednesday. And I already called the soup kitchen.”

 

“He's at his apartment,” Natasha says as she walks to the fridge. Like everyone knows that Steve has an apartment.

 

“Mystery solved. Crisis averted.”

 

Tony's hand drops to his side-the traitor had another apartment? Did he have another superhero team too? Hell, maybe he even had another Tony Stark. Okay, that's just depressing. He picks up his tablet where he'd deposited it on the counter while preparing his breakfast. It shouldn't be too difficult to find the apartment using the GPS on Steve's phone-it's not spying, it's just...checking up on. Checking up on in case Steve has gone back to being that depressed man out of time that had moped around the tower for weeks after the whole conflict with Loki was over for the simple fact that then he'd had no way to take his mind off the fact that he couldn't go home. It could be a totally platonic visit. No kissing, no undressing with his eyes, no thoughts of the many ways he could debauch Captain America(okay maybe that's just asking too much), just a nice friendly visit to say 'hey, I don't dislike you and forgive you for being kind of an asshole two and a half weeks ago'. Then again, he could also be the one to take Steve through his gay phase. Shepherd him through it with blow jobs and hand holding while walking through Central Park or something. Pepper would murder him of course, but he counts it as a reasonable risk.

 

'I'm not here to do a hit and run, Pepper,' he texts once he's at Steve's door, 'I'm just the expert on this kind of thing. He deserves the best.'

 

She doesn't reply but he's sure her face and palm are meeting right now. Undeterred he knocks on the door then leans back on his heels for about a second before knocking again. Of course he'd charmed his way into the building so Steve doesn't know he's here and might think he's a door to door salesman. He's just getting his phone out when Steve steps out of the elevator down the hall looking fine with an armful of some old lady's groceries. In both meanings of the word-his face isn't in 'you killed my puppy' mode and it's also very handsome. It's a win-win. Then he sees Tony. His expression doesn't change though(good sign?), and he leans down to tell the woman something then disappears into her apartment for about 10 minutes which, okay, not exactly the reaction Tony had been hoping for.

 

“Hey,” he flashes a smile when Steve approaches, sees him give him a quick once over before presumably being devoured by guilt and becoming incredibly interested in the wallpaper.

 

“Is something wrong? I didn't have my phone with me so if there's some sort of problem...”

 

“No problem. Just wanted to give you your souvenir,” he isn't lying either, he does have a souvenir for him. Naturally he'd bought everyone else something too(Pepper hadn't allowed him to bring Steve back a samurai sword despite his best efforts to convince her otherwise) or else he'd hear cries of 'favouritism!' as if he hadn't built them their own floors in Avengers Tower.

 

Steve ducks his head with a smile that has no business being that cute, “you didn't have to get me anything,Tony.”

 

“I got you a sword-” Steve gives him a similar look to Pepper's 'say you didn't' one, “but I auctioned it off instead. Turns out airports don't like you carrying live steel on board.”

 

“I wonder why that could be,” he says before sliding past him to unlock the door, “would you like to come in?”

 

Tony isn't one to decline an invitation to go inside a hot, perfectly sane person's house even if it's probably out of politeness that he's being asked so he follows Steve through the door. The interior's decor leaves something to be desired but then again, he hadn't even known Steve had this place so it's possible he just kept it stocked with necessities. Still. A couch, radio and is that an Uncle Sam propaganda poster oh god it _is_ and it's not even an original printing, doesn't do much to make the place feel very home-y. He resists the urge to get an interior designer on the phone.

 

“Something to drink?” Steve's voice snaps him out of his mental critique of his alternative living space in time to shake his head.

 

“I had something in the car on the way over,” he says, then realizes Steve doesn't mean alcohol and strides over to investigate the fridge, “actually, what have you got in there?”

 

“Milk, water? Orange juice?”

 

He wrinkles his nose because none of those options appeal to him, “no coca cola? And you call yourself an American.”

 

“Soda rots your teeth.”

 

Tony decides arbitrarily that now is the time to discuss something other than the evils of coke and pulls out his treasure-which is sadly not a metaphor for his penis-with a flourish, “this is a scroll thing. It says something about Bushido. Thought you'd like it. Fun fact, baseball is Japan's national sport. So I got you a ball signed by the number one baseball team over there,” he shoves both into Steve's hands before he can do the polite thing and refuse.

 

“Thanks, Tony,” he's smiling again thank god so Tony shrugs. Then he sets both things on the coffee table carefully.

 

“I wanted to get more but Clint would've bitched about playing favourites.”

 

“Oh.” His mouth is still open slightly as if the word had just fallen out of its own volition, he's staring at Uncle Sam now like a poster will save him from having a conversation he probably doesn't actually want to have.

 

“Nope. No, okay. We're talking about this.”

 

Steve is all innocent, puppy dog eyes when he drags his eyes back to Tony's face but his fists are clenched so tightly the muscles in his arms are sticking out. It's both fascinating and kind of gross at the same time. “Talking about what?”

 

“About how I kissed you and you kissed back then you acted like I'd killed your dog.” He goes back to the dog metaphors because they're the easiest way to get his point across and Steve is focused on the floor now.

 

“I'm not homosexual, Tony.” There's hesitance barely hidden in how he says it, though. Tony doesn't know anything about hesitating before saying things which the press loves him for but he can hear it just fine, has heard it in Pepper's voice when they were together. Before they'd went their separate ways.

 

“Uhh, yeah, neither am I but we can both obviously appreciate each other's faces,” Tony says, leaning forward to try and demand his attention. He's tall enough that he's at eye level with him, tall enough that he can see those blue eyes flicking from somewhere behind Tony to his face.

 

“It was a mistake to kiss you. You're...” now he just looks distressed to the extreme-Tony puts a hand on his bicep and it isn't shaken off, “you're my teammate. It isn't right.”

 

“Natasha,Clint and Bruce. I said it. It was a secret but I told you so it's not a secret anymore. All teammates. All banging. Sometimes at the same time. Natasha is on top.”

 

It's about the time that Steve's face goes redder than a tomato that he figures he's made a small error in judgement. By the time Steve's hand is on his ready to pull it off he knows he did. “I think you should go, Tony.”

 

“It's not wrong, Steve.”

 

“I don't like men...like that.”

 

“Have you ever tried?”

 

“No but-”

 

“Then how do you know? How can you form a reasonable hypothesis without data?” Steve doesn't take away his hand, lets it rest over top of Tony's until he's up in his space. He frees his hand to place it lightly in the centre of Steve's chest and feels his breath hitch, “Kissing one guy doesn't make you gay. Besides, let's be honest, who wouldn't want to kiss this face?”

 

“It doesn't make you any less of a teammate, Tony. It's still inappropriate,” his hands jump to Tony's shoulder like he'll push him away but he doesn't, just grips lightly to them as if giving himself the option to still shove him in case of emergency.

 

“Can you close your eyes?”

 

“Every night to sleep.”

 

Tony grins, “I mean now, Captain Sarcasm, what have you been watching since I've been gone?”

 

He watches Steve's eyes close then open again quickly and waits for them to close again. When they do, splaying those long eyelashes across still pink cheeks, he slide his hand down and around to Steve's hip and strokes his thumb along the bone there but keeps it over his shirt. Blond eyebrows knit together as he squeezes his eyes shut-shit he really is repressed-Tony pulls away. Asking first is good. Pepper had a point because now Steve's shoulders could pass for marble carvings with how tense they are, and his fingers dig in just a little more. It wouldn't feel wrong to kiss him now, but it wouldn't feel right either. Kissing means good, means a happy buzz, a pleasant feeling that he wants to last not bad nerves(there's a difference between good and bad obviously) and something too close to fear for his taste.

 

“Can I kiss you?”

 

“It would be a bad idea.”

 

“Do you _want_ me to kiss you even if this is a horrible idea? Your words, not mine.”

 

Steve's tongue darts out, licks his lips but he doesn't open his eyes. “Please don't ask me that.”

 

“Why not? Why is it wrong? Shit, Steve, I thought I was taking it slow but I can be slower. Really. If you're not a kiss on the fourth date kind of guy we can wait,” he stops his hands from touching him again, forces himself to keep them by his sides. It wouldn't be fair to ask him to make a decision while Tony is groping his pecs or stroking somewhere probably too close to his groin area for his 40's sensibilities.

 

“I think you should go, Tony.”

 

“Okay. I'll go. Just...call me when you're ready. I mean, or there's something happening or there's Avenging to do obviously.”

 

'I hate you and everything you stand for' he sends to Pepper in the car back to the mansion 'do you realize how many times I could get blue balls? I'll die, Pepper.'

 

'You did the right thing, Tony.'

 

'I hate the right thing' Tony sat back in his seat not sulking. Okay, maybe a little bit but how could anyone blame him really? Captain fucking(or not so fucking) America had just rejected him on the basis that they were teammates despite obviously wanting Tony's dick in or around his face. It's just unnatural. But he's patient, sort of, and it's Steve and his face with those damn puppy dog eyes had been so pathetic to behold that even if he wanted to just kiss him and be done with it he won't. God, why hadn't he been a villain instead, then he could ask for kisses from Steve properly and he'd be so enthralled with his villainy that he'd say 'ooh mister Stark please kiss me now'. “Take me to Dunkin, Happy.”

 

“You sure, Boss?”

 

“Assorted.”

 

“You got it.”

 

He can hear the disapproval in Happy's voice(he and Pepper had been hanging out a lot she'd probably started to rub off on him) but Happy doesn't know what it's like to get rejected by Captain America so as far as Tony is concerned he has no right to judge him on his doughnut eating habits. They taste delicious with a side of 'how the hell do I date Steve Rogers without making him uncomfortable?'.

 

~~**~~

 

“Why won't he just let me suck his dick. I don't...I don't get it. I'm great at it, he wants it...”

 

Bruce chuckles as he pokes at the screen holding the data for his experiment, “I wouldn't know anything about that.”

 

“For the sake of my own sanity I'm saying that you don't. I like him, he likes me, obviously, so why? Write this down, I want a detailed hypothesis and conclusion by tomorrow.”

 

“Didn't he have that lady before?”

 

“Peggy Carter? Not getting where you're headed here, Bruce, explain this to me or get far enough along that I figure it out myself,” he peers over Banner's shoulder-the guy knows his stuff so he could possibly be right about Steve. Of course he could also be horribly wrong but if that happens Tony will let him and Twitter and everyone else know.

 

“He had an expectation...like an experiment, that he would be with her and then he wakes up 70 years later and starts...well you know with you. It's not what he expected the experiment to turn out as. We both know what it's like for things to go differently than we would've liked,” Bruce gives a half smile. He does know what it's like. But he can't exactly make a machine that will make him into a woman who is probably long dead. When he expresses that thought to Bruce he shakes his head, obviously amused at Tony's pain.

 

“Shoot for the moon, Tony.”

 

“No, that's bullshit. I won't miss and I probably already own the moon so why would I want to shoot for that anyway? I'm shooting for Steve's dick. I'm accepting nothing less.”

 

Bruce makes a grunting noise which signals that he's entered the Intelligence Zone and thus will communicate with nothing other than vaguely sexual sounds. Tony's used to this by now-he keeps talking until he works out a solution.

 

~~**~~

 

“No way, I'm not going near the gym while you're in it. No offence, Cap, but you'd break me into tiny pieces out of sexual frustration and there are parts of me that medical science can't yet recreate if lost,” Clint pulls back the string of his bow then lets go, sending an arrow into the middle of the target leaned against one of the railings on the roof of the tower.

 

“It's not...that.”

 

“It's that. I would know. 'Tasha's on a mission and Bruce is locked in his lab, it's hard times, man.”

 

Steve feels his face heat up-Tony hadn't been lying then, “what about Tony? He seems like...he...”

 

“I'm not wearing a Captain America costume. The blowjob wouldn't be worth it, seriously I think he's got a doughnut addiction now. Might be from blue balls.”

 

“Did Tony ask you to talk to me about this?” Tony had said it was alright if he wanted to go slow but...

 

“Not this time,” another arrow lands in its mark with a loud thunk, “I'm just getting sympathy dick pain from watching you two.”

 

“You might want to get that checked out.”

 

Clint fumbles(the arrow still hits its mark) before turning around, “you just made a joke. This is like watching a baby getting born.”

 

“Can it, Barton,” he uses his mission voice and Clint shrugs, returns to his practice so Steve sits with his back against a wall and sketches him.

 

There are mostly pictures of the Avengers in here now instead of half finished pictures of Peggy, Howard, and Bucky. They sometimes appear after a night of dreams where he's awake while encased in the ice, screaming for help but more often than not it's Tony or Natasha or even Thor who spring to mind when he wakes. Mostly Tony. Tony with messy, greasy hair in the workshop, Tony passed out with a mug of coffee in his hands at the table in the kitchen, Tony smiling at something he sees out of the frame of the picture.

 

He doesn't notice Tony coming in but he notices him stopping and turning around. “Hey!”

 

Tony raises his eyebrows, points to himself with an exaggerated look of surprise. He smiles back when Steve does. “Hungry?” he mouths as if it's supposed to be a secret from Clint who is still diligently killing his target.

 

It won't hurt anybody to go out for food-it won't hurt him. Friends go out together all the time. He knows the hesitance shows on his face but Tony waits patiently until he nods and closes his sketchbook to grin. They don't stand too close, just a friendly distance away from each other before going-Clint yells for them to bring him back food because just because he's not Captain Hottie doesn't mean he doesn't get hungry too-and Steve manages not to feel awkward when Tony holds the door open for him. It's friendly, he tells himself. They're going slow.

 

“I was thinking the park. Get a couple hot dogs, take a walk?”

 

“Is it...a ...you know?”

 

“Do you want it to be a you know?” Tony is typing away on his phone in an attempt to seem casual(he does it a lot and thinks Steve doesn't notice but he does) on the elevator ride down.

 

The rest of the ride is silent other than the sound of the elevator doors opening and shutting. He takes a deep breath to shatter it but it just settles back down on top of them like dust.

 

Tony shoves his phone in his pocket as people step onto the elevator as they step off. His eyes are hidden by sunglasses which might've been why he doesn't hesitate(he thinks Steve doesn't notice how he uses the glasses, the armour's helmet as a shield but Steve notices that, too), “Different question. Would you be okay with it being a you know if I were a girl? I know I'm not what you ...expected or wanted but...”

 

“That's not true, Tony,” Steve murmurs, not wanting to air their dirty laundry in public. But Tony is always in the public, he must be used to it, must not notice that people could be hearing them.

 

“No, it's fine. I get it. It's an observation, not a guilt trip. I didn't expect to get chunks of shrapnel in my heart or to almost die from the first arc reactor-it was an oversight not a mistake they're different-but I have it and it's a part of me. Not that I have a choice again observation, not guilt trip,” Tony opens the door for him again as they head for the car parked out front.

 

“Are you trying to say that even if I didn't expect to ...Can we go somewhere more private?” the people all look at him, know his secret. He keeps his head held high-this kind of secret isn't a problem anymore they'd said, it's nothing to be ashamed about. His palms are sweating anyway.

 

Tony's hand is on the small of his back, steering him into the black BMW. His driver, Happy Hogan sits in the front seat until Tony jerks his head to one side, “Pepper said she needed your opinion on 'stuff'.”

 

The smile on Hogan's face when he vacates the driver's seat is almost too excited to belong on a person-Steve is sure Tony's lying about it however he's not about to complain about not having to have a private conversation in front of his driver. “Okay, private time.”

 

“You said you didn't expect the arc reactor. Are you trying to tell me that just because I didn't expect these...feelings for you that that doesn't mean they're wrong?”

 

“No. Yes. Yes, that's what I'm trying to say. You can spend your whole life listening to what other people tell you is the right thing for you or your company or you can do what you think is right for you and fuck everybody else,” the car starts up with a low growl and Tony is staring straight ahead, “I want you, you want me, anyone who thinks it's wrong is just jealous.”

 

“This wasn't...what I expected to happen.”

 

“I know.”

 

He sighs, “I want this to be a date.”

 

“Are you sure? Because it can be a platonic friend date I mean I want it to be a date-date obviously but if you want it to be one too that's good.”

 

“I'm sure,” he says, and he is.

**Author's Note:**

> So that's it. I may later write something in the same timeline with Steve and Tony actually dating but for now it's just this. Thanks for reading!


End file.
